


Blood as Red and Sweet

by VeniceLaurel



Category: Nimona (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, I Don't Really Know What Other Tags to Add, M/M, Oops, The Director is Extra Evil in This
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-18 01:06:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19966204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeniceLaurel/pseuds/VeniceLaurel
Summary: Ambrosius dropped the lance, leaving it armed, not using it like the Director wanted him to. So why did he still find himself by Ballister side, standing in the ash, looking through the smoke.





	Blood as Red and Sweet

**Author's Note:**

> A retelling of Nimona after a spur of inspiration. What would have happened if it was not Ambrosius who fired the lance? Using some scenes from the original work, and summarizing the scenes that were mostly unchanged.
> 
> Nimona belongs to the queen herself, Noelle Stevenson. I am not making any money off of this. I just casually wrote 21,000 words in less than a week for fun, you know, like you do. (Granted 3000 of those words were written in the week of editing after the initial write. IDK how it added up to 3000 words. It just felt like a couple paragraphs.)
> 
> Enjoy!

The ground was hard where Ambrosius fell. It was sure to leave a bruise tomorrow. However, Ambrosius was more worried about his pride. How could he have lost? Sure, Ballister was admittedly, maybe, a slightly better knight than him, but Ambrosius was the better rider of the two and could have won that joust easily. Ambrosius shifted his weight off of his sore hip, rubbing at the tender skin, and scowled at Ballister as he rode on and waved to the crowd. The Director's words echoed through his head. Would he even be able to be a knight now? What would he do? Where would he go? Ambrosius had only thought about being a knight all his life and had no other direction to go. He felt lost, humiliated, and sore. 

What if he were to actually use the lance the Director gave to him? Would that change anything? What if he were to...

Ambrosius's thumb ran over the weaponized lance, brushing over the red button that would mostly likely fire an explosive. Ambrosius looked up at Ballister, whose back was turned. He was so unsuspecting. He didn't even want to be a knight in the first place. Surely he would understand...

Then Ballister turned, his eyes bright and smile wide. He looked over to Ambrosius and melted the golden haired boy's heart with one reassuring nod. Ambrosius dropped the lance, disgusted and guilty. This was Ballister he was talking about. How could he ever do something like that to his closest friend...

Were they even friends? That night in the courtyard, under the full moon. Sure, it was cheesy and cliche, but it was beautiful, and sweet. The way Ballister ran his hand through the hair Ambrosius was growing out, how his eyes reflected the stars, how he smiled at the younger knight-to-be, finally leaning in, their lips connecting, melting the world away as his touch. 

Even the nights before that. Long talks on the roof and the balconies of the orphanage. Sneaking away to each other's beds. Stolen kisses on cheeks and temples. Hands intertwined as they talked about their fears, their dreams, the future. Ambrosius had said that Ballister was in his future. That was always the case, even since when they were young and naive. 

What where they? 

Ambrosius grunted as he pushed himself forward off the hard ground, brushing away the dirt and standing tall. He saw Ballister dismounting his horse and patting her on the side. Always so gentle and kind. They strode over to each other and fell into a natural and familiar embrace. Once the two pulled away, Ambrosius smiled, although somewhat forced. 

"Congratulations." He complimented. Ambrosius's hand found itself running down Ballister's arm, and lacing their fingers together. 

Ballister took one look into Ambrosius's eyes. He saw the shame and embarrassment of the loss and the fear of what was yet to come. Ballister placed his free hand on Ambrosius's cheek and ran his thumb over the blond's cheekbone. "I know you are disappointed, and I know you fear for the future." Ballister pulled Ambrosius into another embrace and continued. "You will be fine. I will be right beside you." Ballister pulled away and smiled comfortingly at the man before him. Ambrosius looked down, his guilt from earlier coming back in full force. Ballister frowned. "What is it?"

Ambrosius almost choked on his breath. Here, this man, this wonderful man was still worried about him, despite Ambrosius's narcissism and his almost killing someone he loved over a competition. He knew that it would hurt Ballister to know what went through Ambrosius's mind as he laid in the dust, watching Ballister bask in the glory of victory. He knew it would hurt him, hurt them, but he owned it to Ballister. He deserved to know the truth, for Ballister would always be honest with him.

"I almost hurt you," Ambrosius confessed, croaking the words out in sorrow. "You are so kind to me, and I almost..." The last word fell away.

Ballister paused, confused. What was Ambrosius talking about? "Well, there is a risk to jousting," Ballister reasoned. "But we know the risks and we have done this before. I don't understand..."

"No," Ambrosius stopped him. "The Director, she...she gave me a weaponized lance. I...I almost used it. I almost used it to hurt you." Ballister stepped back, letting Ambrosius's hand fall out of his grip. "I'm sorry." Ballister knew that Ambrosius's pride and ego were sometimes hard to control, and would most likely be his downfall one day, but he never really though that it might hurt him physically. 

Still, Ambrosius did not hurt him, and confessed right after. Sure, Ambrosius might have lost some trust, but he was still the same sweet, loving man that Ballister knew. He was still the one who had held Ballister behind his back, holding a sword between him and the people or creatures looking to hurt them during their childhood. Ballister was confused. He needed to think about this later. He sighed, searching for the right words. After some pause, he finally said "Thank you for your honesty. We need to talk about this later, but for now, lets not let it get us down." Ambrosius looked up, eyes shining with unshed tears. "Ambrosius, you are only human. We all have intrusive thoughts about hurting ourselves, loved ones, or even complete strangers, but what matters in the end is that you don't act upon these thoughts and apologize." Ballister placed a hand on Ambrosius's shoulder. "You did just that. And I still love you." Ambrosius's eyes widened and Ballister froze, realizing what he had just said. Ambrosius wiped his eyes and placed his hand on the one on his shoulder. 

"You..."

"I love you," Ballister repeated, more confident, yet still softly. 

Ambrosius paused, pursing his lips."What does that make us, Ballister?" 

"Whatever you want." Ambrosius took in a sharp breath and smiled, chuckling. 

"God, I love you too," Ambrosius sighed. he slid his arms around Ballister's waist, pulling him closer. He finally leaned in, and met Ballister in a kiss, gentle and sweet. Wolf whistles in the crowd and shouts drowned into the background, and Ambrosius and Ballister where the only two people in the world at that moment. When they finally pulled apart, Ambrosius laughed, a happy bright laugh. His tears dried and face flushed. Ambrosius decided that he would try for this man. That he would try to be better. That he would try to put others into consideration. It would be hard, but for Ballister, Ambrosius would do anything it took to begin to be half of what Ballister thought of him.

Ballister finally spoke after a long pause. "I should stay here a bit longer. See to the crowd and Director. I'll meet you back at the barracks, okay?" Ambrosius nodded. 

"I'll pick up some food on the way. Do you have a preference?" Ballister thought for a moment.

"Pizza would be nice. With anchovies?" Ambrosius gagged, and exaggerated doubling over in disgust, clutching his stomach.

"Bleh," He coughed, dramatically clutching his throat and fanning himself. "Why must my boyfriend have such low standards in the culinary arts?" He turned and walked backwards, still facing Ballister, hand placed dramatically on his forehead. 

Ballister feigned a slow applause. "With a performance like that, it is no question that you could become an actor." Ambrosius laughed and bowed low to the ground, hair falling to the floor and brushing the dirt. After a second, he stood up straight and waved to Ballister, turning finally to exit the pavilion. Ballister was alone. 

It was not a second later that he heard a sharp, clear, high whistle through the air. It was barely noticeable over the roaring crowd demanding Ballister's attention, but it was loud enough that it resembled a firework before an explosion. Ballister frowned. There were never fireworks at the end of these events. Why would they start now? And the sound was strangely coming from where Ambrosius fell from his horse. Ballister began to look a second too late, and felt the explosion before he saw it.

The crowd gasped and their shouts fell to a quiet silence. The fire could be heard burning from a mile away. The kingdom was silent, watching from their televised screens, whose signals immediately changed to static after the explosion. The crowd was ushered out of the stands "for their safety" and only then did hushed whispers fall through the wind, flying over the heads of the startled, worried and horrified crowd. "What happened?" "Is he alright?" "What, or who, did this?" 

Ballister choked on his blood, coughing, and in pain. Why did he feel numb. Why couldn't he feel his arm? Why couldn't he move? 

Where was Ambrosius? Was he alright?

A moment later, his questions were answered as he felt, rather than heard, heavy and fast footsteps in the dirt. Someone was saying something. He couldn't hear anything over the ringing though. What was ringing? Was that his ears? 

"...Bal....Help Some....Ballister....." The voice grew louder as the ringing in his head finally began to dissipate. Why couldn't he see anything? Ballister tried opening his eyes. He only saw the blurry outline of a golden head of hair and the smoke. God, the smoke stung his eyes. He closed them again, but Ballister had a suspicion that the smoke was not the only thing hindering his vision. 

"Ballister, Oh God, no, please" The voice sobbed, broken and shattered. Ballister felt himself being shaken. He tried to lift an arm, but could only raise his hand a few centimeters. 

"Ballister?" the voice whispered. "Oh thank God, he is still alive, Oh my God." The voice began shouting again. "Help! Someone get the medics!" 

Ballister did not know what happened next. He fell into the black embrace of dreams, and left the pain and worries behind him. 

However, Ambrosius watched, very much awake and alert, as the medics carried Ballister away, poking and prodding at him and at where his arm should have been. Ambrosius choked on the bile rising in his throat, covering his mouth with a shaking hand, eyes stinging with smoke and tears. He looked around, trying to find the source of the missile, sorrow and anger bubbling in his veins. 

As the smoke fell away, he saw a lone silhouette against the destruction and the empty stands. A lone figure, familiar and menacing. Beside her, a spent lance, smoking and blackened with soot. The Director looked in his direction, face set in a permanent scowl. Ambrosius saw red, and screamed. When his vision cleared, the director was gone, and Ambrosius was alone in the aftermath, broken and shaking.

_____

The first thing Ballister noticed when he woke up was the subtle, smooth sensation of a slightly calloused, yet manicured hand rubbing circles into his palm with a thumb. The second thing he noticed, or rather did not notice, was his other hand. The third thing he noticed were voices, one angry and threatening, the other monotone and authoritative. Ballister kept his eyes closed and breathing steady, partly because he was exhausted, but mostly to not draw attention to himself.

The threatening voice was familiar. Comforting strangely enough. The anger of the voice was not directed towards him, but towards the other voice, and it sounded as if the anger was a defense. Like the voice was trying to protect something. This voice reminded Ballister of summer nights long ago, catching fireflies in the dark. Of soft smiles and warm eyes. Of home, crowded and unwelcoming at times, but still home. Of love and tenderness that Ballister knew of only one man. This voice was Ambrosius, coiled against the monotone and ready to strike, holding Ballister with one hand and defending with his words, scathing with rage. 

The monotone voice was also familiar, but this voice reminded Ballister of frozen metal walls and disapproving glances at held hands and at soft kisses. This voice yelled with a silent scorn all those nights ago, when they stayed up past curfew to catch fireflies. Of cold stares and hard frowns. Of a prison, not a home, crowded and forced. Of uncaring and a harshness that only one woman could muster. The director. Ballister could feel her scowl even through his closed eyes. 

"How dare you show your face here," Ambrosius spat, venom lacing every word and glare heating the air enough for Ballister to feel it, still unseeing. "After what you did to him." Ambrosius's hand that was intertwined in Ballister's stopped the comforting massage, and tugged away slightly, most likely because of Ambrosius physically lashing out at the cold woman before him. "I have half the mind to pull a dagger on you, villain."

There was no change in the monotone disapproval of the director. "You know that would not be wise, Goldenloin." The director paused, and Ballister felt Ambrosius's thumb move over his hand again, just once in a smooth diagonal line. The air chilled once again, and all the could be heard was the buzz of lights above and the heart rate monitor somewhere to the side. Ambrosius sighed, defeated.

"What do you want, witch?" 

"The institute needs a champion. You were chosen even before the joust. That is why we gifted you the lance."

Ambrosius's voice raised. "But why me? Why me specifically? Why do you even need a champion?" His voice was accusatory. "Why can you not just choose the next promising knight. I am certainly nothing special."

"You are truly foolish if you do not know the answer to those questions already," the Director shot back, irritated. Ambrosius looked away. He _did _know why they chose him and him specifically. He had made a name for himself already. He had been heroic in his youth, doing deeds that knights would do, as it was his aspiration in life. Why not get started, he had thought back then, when he was still naive and believed the Institute to be good and noble. He followed in the footsteps of the knights before him, he had trained, and became known among the kingdom as trustworthy, as kind and gentle, and as heroic. Just the kind of figurehead the Institute needed. Someone heroic to gain the trust of the people after countless mishaps. The Institute liked to hide things, and they lied, they created a facade. Having someone who was trusted by the people to represent the Institute would signal to the people that the Institute was trustworthy as well, and the kingdom would forget whatever wrongs they had done in the past. This was the vicious cycle, as it had been done before and would most likely be done again. Now Ambrosius had found himself in the middle of this lie. But he would not accept it.__

__

"You must be far less intelligent than you advertise if you think I will ever associate with you after today." Ambrosius took Ballister's hand in his, grasping it like a lifeline. "Leave us, foul woman."

Slow, deliberate, threatening steps approached the bed where Ballister lay. He felt a pressure on the side of his body that was bloody and broken and scarred and not whole. 

"Do not. Touch. Him." Ambrosius growled, feral, like a cobra ready to strike. His grip on Ballister's hand was almost too tight, but it remained gentle. 

"This is your fault, Goldenloin." The woman hissed. Ballister could feel Ambrosius pull back slightly, hand falling limp over his. "If you had won the joust, The institute would not have been forced to create the spectacle that it did..."

"Shut. up" Ambrosius's grip tightened once again, not enough to hurt, but enough to worry Ballister. 

"A freak accident. The only explanation for why the institute would choose the loser over the damaged winner..."

"I said Shut. Up." Ballister could feel the slight pull of the covers on his hospital bed, as if Ambrosius was gripping the sheets, clawing at them in anger, focusing his temper into the hand unoccupied by Ballister's.

"If you had actually been victorious like I expected of you, then Blackheart would be well, and not in a hospital..."

Ambrosius pulled away, away from the bed, and away from Ballister. He screamed, burning and biting, feral and storming. "I Said STOP. Shut it. Shut your damn mouth, witch. You foul, horrible..."

"This is your. Fault."

Ballister heard a crash off to the side, a scream of pure rage, what sounded like a chair thrown in frustration. "LEAVE!"

Ballister heard a pause

"Your precious Blackheart was hurt once before by you." The Director paused, and footsteps echoed towards Ballister's bedside. He heard a sword being drawn, but he did not know by who. Maybe it was both of them. Seconds later, he felt a cold, jagged blade across his throat. "It would be a shame if your failure to comply would harm him again. I would have no qualms in his death, especially when you forced my hand."

Ambrosius sighed again. His voice was hoarse from shouting, and broken from his screams. "What do you want?" he asked, barely audible.

"I believe I have already expressed this. The institute needs a champion, and you will be that champion." The dagger pressed harder into Ballister's neck, and it took all his willpower to not flinch, causing his decapitation right there. "If you do not agree, his blood will be on you hands." The dagger drew blood.

"ALL RIGHT, STOP!" Ambrosius's voice shook. "All right. Fine, you win, witch." A sword clattered to the ground. A broken voice whispered "you win."

"I expect full cooperation from you," The director began. "If you do not live the lie, if you do not reign victorious in your battles, if you do not follow my commands. His blood will be on your hands." The dagger withdrew from Ballister's neck. It was a miracle that his heart rate did not rise, having the monitor attached to him alert the two of his wakefulness. "Understood?"

Ambrosius did not answer.

"Understood?" The word was harsh, striking, gnashing. It struck at the last of Ambrosius's strength to fight and left him weak, confused, and unable to fight back. His voice shook.

"Understood." 

"I'm glad we could come to an agreement." The Director left, as if nothing had happened. Footsteps haunting, echoing through the hall. 

Ballister opened his eyes. He expected what he saw. A broken man, eyes red, tears across his face, hair a mess and covered in soot. Shattered, any hope gone, with a void left in its place. Ambrosius did not notice Ballister. He fell to his knees next to the discarded sword, his armor rattling like his breath as he let out a shuttering sob that raked his being, hands now clinging to his sides like he would suffocate if he let go. Drowning in sorrows, he did not hear when Ballister called his name once, then twice. Perhaps he was too silent, his voice to weak. Perhaps he just imagined calling out. Ambrosius did not notice either way. Ballister instead reached out with his one remaining hand, dropping it again in exhaustion, leaving the two shattered and tired men in silence, only broken by the weeping of one and the heartbeat of the other.

_____

When Ambrosius finally choked on his tears and stopped his pitiful spectacle, he gathered himself into a more dignified state of mind. The love of his life was currently injured, bleeding out, and almost dead, and crying would not help him. Ambrosius dragged himself off the ground, retrieving his sword and turning toward the injured man. Ambrosius wanted to believe he had strengthened himself enough to face the man he had harmed, but when he saw the once perfect face of the man he loved, his composure melted away to reveal the pitiful mess he had become in the last twenty four hours. 

Ballister looked at him with the same pity that Ambrosius did not need nor deserve. How could the one that had been harmed by his stupidity and foolishness still look at him, let alone with pity. Ballister reached a shaking arm out to Ambrosius, who strode to take it. "How much of that did you see?" Ambrosius looked away. He could not meet the eyes of the man who most likely hated him now, who he had disfigured. 

"I heard it all. I heard what you did." Ballister reached up towards Ambrosius's cheek to turn it towards him like he always did when Ambrosius would not look at him. 

"You heard that I am the one that did this to you?" Ambrosius hissed through his teeth. "That I am the reason that you are now in the hospital, fighting for your life." Ambrosius turned away still, drowning in his own self hatred, suffocating in guilt. "I understand if you do not want to see me again." Fresh tears rolled down the blond's cheeks, dampening the hand that was still resting there. 

Ballister let out a weak laugh. "Always one for dramatics, aren't you?" Ballister brushed away a tear. "What I actually heard, was the Director letting you believe that you would ever cause me harm." Ambrosius looked at Ballister finally, dew dusting his lashes and eyes red. "What I heard was that you gave your freedom for my life." Ballister smiled, warmth spreading through his cold, weakened body. "What I heard was that you would never hurt me. You never could hurt me." Ambrosius knelt beside Ballister's beside, his head now level with Ballister's. His eyes still shed tears, but his smile told of how they were now tears of love, of overwhelming gratefulness, of the question "How did I deserve him. He is too good for me." Ballister leaned forward, closing the gap between them and kissed Ambrosius delicately on the lips, reassuring him that everything would be alright. "We will figure this out. Do not fret, love. We will survive this, and come out stronger than before."

_____

Ballister did not really know how he became the villain in the story. It was as if the kingdom forgot who he used to be in favor of the Institute's twisted narrative. Perhaps he became the villain to try and free Ambrosius from his prison. Perhaps the Institute labeled him as a villain one day and Ballister played along. Whatever the case, he was the villain, and Ambrosius was the hero. The public saw what the Institute wanted them to see. They saw former friends suddenly enemies, pitted against each other, one fighting to protect the kingdom and all that it stood for, the other a vicious murderer, though, ironically enough, Ballister rarely killed, and only ever out of self defense. 

But of course, having to fight each other put strain on Ballister and Ambrosius, Ambrosius more so because of who he was fighting for. They both wanted the Institute to fall, but that was difficult to do so when they held Ambrosius by his heart and threatened to break it if he stepped out of line. After Ballister became the villain, new rules for Ambrosius were put into place to re-establish the Institute's hold over him. First and foremost, he must never be seen in public with Ballister unless it is in battle. That would mean their relationship would have to be a secret. Ambrosius would be able to sneak out of the barracks long enough to visit with Ballister most of the time, making excuses to the others. "I have to visit family for the weekend." or "It has been a long day. I just want to go for drinks alone." The others knew he was lying, but never pressed the issue. Most of them understood. They knew what it was like to be controlled. To have to steal small moments of freedom. They let him go, never speaking a word of it. 

The second rule was basically a restatement of the initial rules given to the knight in the hospital that fateful day. "If we see you slipping, if you are not fully invested in your role, if you fail to make yourself into what we want you to be. His blood with be on your hands."

"His blood will be on your hands. His blood on your hands. His blood is on your hands. Live with your failures. You hurt him. You failed him. He is broken because of you." These were daily reminders for Ambrosius, sometimes from the Director, and most of the time from himself. He was angry in the first few months, breaking glasses with his grip, destroying straw practice dummies with his sword. screaming his voice haggard into the darkness. Over time, anger turned to sadness and guilt, and to apathy and near depression as the years wore on, and the only time Ambrosius saw Ballister was in their staged battles or in their scarce and short meetings in the shadows. The years wore down on them both, both of them trying to escape behind the scenes, finding some way to take the Institute down without raising suspicion, endangering them both. So far, their plans have failed, and Ambrosius has been forced to feign victory over the storybook villain the real evil had fabricated. 

_____

"I've been thinking," Ambrosius began, head resting on Ballister's chest, the side without the metal arm and the cold plates embedded into his skin. "If we win. If we are finally able to take down these bastards..."

"When," Ballister corrected, real hand pulling Ambrosius closer and running his fingers through his golden hair. Ambrosius let out a soft chuckle as Ballister kissed his forehead. 

"When," Ambrosius said, though his heart doubted that would ever be true. "When we finally take down the institute, when we are finally free, I've been thinking of the future. Where we would go." Ballister hummed in amusement and curiosity , signalling for Ambrosius to go on as he gently, yet clumsily, braided a strand of Ambrosius's hair with one hand. "We would obviously be married. I mean, we've been together for years, through everything that has been thrown at us. I cannot imagine life with anyone else. I cannot imagine living without you, Ballister."

"Of course," Ballister agreed. "We are basically married already." Ambrosius let out a laugh. A genuine laugh, so rare these days. Ballister closed his eyes, enjoying the light and joyful sound, so different from Ambrosius's faked laughs of delight as he faked victory over Ballister in their many 'battles', so different from the sad chuckles and glances away, so different from the silence that meets him most of the times that Ballister tries to brighten Ambrosius's day. He knows it is nothing against him personally, Ambrosius just does not have the energy. Ballister still tries despite cold reactions. Ambrosius apologizes too often for his distance, no matter how much Ballister reassures him. 

Ambrosius smiled. "I have been wondering how well I would do with Mercenary work." Ballister raised his eyebrows. "Of course, it would be to help people. Finding lost loved ones, protecting families, that sort of thing. I would never work with villains...willingly." Ballister nodded.

"What would I be?" 

"You would be a scientist, obviously. I know how much you love inventing, discovering, all the sciencey stuff you enjoy. You wanted to be a scientist long before the joust. You would not give your dream up easily." Ambrosius sighed, eyes glistening as he looked at the ceiling. He placed a hand on Ballister's heart. "We would change our lat names as well. Combine them. 'Goldenheart.' Think about it. I was childish and egotistical when I decided that 'Goldenloin' was a good thing to call myself, and you are much to sweet to call yourself 'Blackheart.'" 

Ballister hummed once more and smiled as Ambrosius sat up to look down at Ballister. He took Ballister's face in his hands, kissing from his forehead to his ears to his lips then to his neck. Ballister sighed, taking Ambrosius in his arms. Soon, nothing was between them except a mint green tunic falling off of one shoulder. They laid awake into the late hours of the night.

_____

When Ambrosius woke, he was greeted by an empty bed, which was unsurprising, seeing as Ballister often woke first after their nights together to get dressed, cook breakfast, and work in his lab. Ambrosius sat up, hair tangled and sticking in weird places. He yawned as he adjusted his tunic to cover both shoulders, only to have it fall back to its original position. Stretching, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He did not bother putting anything other than his tunic on, seeing that it went down to his mid thigh and Ballister was the only one in the house as far as he knew. Ambrosius left the bedroom, rubbing his eyes and yawning again, tired after the late night. He could never understand how Ballister could get up and act like he was not exhausted. 

"Ballister?" Ambrosius walked to the kitchen to find the eggs and fruit left for him. Ambrosius searched the kitchen for a cup but only found a note in Ballister's handwriting. 

_Gone to get milk. Be back soon.  
-B ___

____

Ambrosius chuckled softly at the small heart next to Ballister's name as he opted to fill his glass with water instead. He sat down and finished his breakfast quickly, and checked the paper. "Hero Ambrosius Goldenloin Saves King's Daughter From Villain Ballister Blackheart's Attempts to Clone." Ambrosius sipped his water as he read the article, rolling his eyes at his own theatrics and the dramatic retelling in the newspaper by witnesses. Apparently, one witness saw that Ballister had grown fangs and claws since the last time he appeared in public, and that Ambrosius mysteriously had an angel's halo above his head. Ambrosius especially enjoyed the artist rendition of said descriptions.

Ambrosius looked up from the paper when a crash sounded from Ballister's lab. Ambrosius stood up, leaving the water and paper, grabbing the plate to leave in the sink on the way to the lab. "Ballister?" Ambrosius called down the corridor. "Are you back already?" He approached the now silent lab, cautiously peaking around the corner. When he saw nothing, Ambrosius led himself into the lab, once again calling out in confusion. "Ballister?" He was pushed to the floor in response. 

What was on top of him was large with rough skin and...were those spikes? Ambrosius lay on his stomach, squirming under the weight and wheezing for breath. "Get off!" Ambrosius snarled. "Who are you?"

"Wouldn't you like to know, Goldenloin," the voice snarled back. Female, young, snarky. "Why are you here? Come to spy on Blackheart's plans? What if I..." 

"Get off of him," A new voice called. Ballister. Heavy, frantic footsteps came running to Ambrosius's aid and he felt the weight shift off of him. Ambrosius hastily got up and looked for a weapon against the person in front of him. Ballister leapt to Ambrosius's side, sword pointed towards the intruder.

" Whoa, whoa, whoa," the girl said, holding her hands up. "If you knew better, you would not point that in my face, Boss." Boss? The girl glared at Ambrosius, hands up in surrender. Her hair was shaved everywhere except on her bangs and sides. She wore a raspberry tunic over a chain mail cuirass, and a collar made of a sheet of metal. She _looked _like a normal girl, so why did Ambrosius feel spikes and scales?__

____

__

"First, explain why I come home to find a shapeshifter attacking Ambrosius," Ballister growled, unrelenting, waving his sword at the girl. A shapeshifter? That explains the scales and spikes disappearing, but shapeshifters are rare, and usually limited to one shape they can shift into.

"I was sent by the agency. I'm your new sidekick." The girl seemed exasperated now, pushing Ballister's sword away from her face. Ballister lowered it in confusion.

"Sidekick?" 

Ambrosius pulled at his arm. "Ballister, a word." Ballister nodded and turned his back to the girl, listening to Ambrosius intently, looking back to make sure the girl did not make any sudden movements to attack. "If we are being honest here, and this shapeshifter is really here to help us, we should take the opportunity." 

"But she attacked you," Ballister argued. "And we don't need help. What if she is just working for the Institute." 

"I'm not, by the way," the girl spoke up. Ballister scowled in her direction and the girl put her hands up again. "Sheesh, fine, no eavesdropping."

Ballister turned back to Ambrosius, who spoke up, softer so the girl could not hear. "We have been fighting the institute for years with no luck. We have been alone. Maybe some help would change that. And she probably only attacked me because we are supposed to be enemies." Ballister was silent, contemplating Ambrosius's words. "Plus, a shapeshifter could be useful." 

"Fine," Ballister said to Ambrosius. He then turned to the girl and said louder. "Fine. But were you really sent by the agency?" The girl shrugged. 

"Nope." She popped the p, smirking. "But first, what is Goldilocks doing here?" Ambrosius looked to Ballister, motioning for him to explain the situation. Ballister sighed, finally sheathing his sword and rubbing his eyes with one hand in irritation. 

"The reason he is here is that we aren't really enemies," Ballister explained. "One day, to determine the new champion of the Institute, me and Ambrosius were set to compete in a joust. Ambrosius's lance was weaponized, throwing off his balance and causing him to loose. Because he was the Institute's first choice, his lance was used to..." Ballister paused and gestured to his arm. Ambrosius grasped Ballister's good hand, squeezing it in reassurance. "Ambrosius was threatened with my assassination after he refused to work with the Institute after what they did. I was made into the villain, and we've been stuck in a never ending ruse ever since." The girl looked at the two, the hopeless expression on Ambrosius's face and Ballister's down turned eyes. 

"Damn," She said. She immediately brushed off her somber tone and smirked once again. "Well, my name is Nimona, and I'm not just any shapeshifter. I'm.." Nimona grinned and transformed into "A shark!" Ambrosius startled and stepped back, eyes wide and a frown on his face. Nimona laughed, still a shark, though with legs instead of a tail. "It is going to be fun working with you, Goldilocks." Ambrosius groaned and put his head in his hands. "Oh, and I would put some pants on if I were you. I've already seen more than I've wanted to." Ambrosius blushed a deep scarlet, and Nimona let out another barking laugh. Ballister couldn't help but chuckle, causing Ambrosius to gently scowl and buff him on the shoulder while attempting to pull his tunic below his knees.

"I regret this already," Ambrosius grumbled. 

_____

"Unhand that science!" Ambrosius spoke with authority, one hand on his hip, the other in the air, fist raised to the sky heroically. Hie head was held high, chin pointed towards the ceiling. His cape waved under his feet in a way that would a tripped anyone less graceful and his armor shone under the florescent light. Ballister remembered all those years ago when he said Ambrosius could have been an actor if he wanted to.

"I should have known you'd show up!" Ballister waved his fist almost comically. He could feel Nimona's gaze, judgmental yet amused at the two men's display. 

"Have at thee," Ambrosius challenged, drawing his sword. They had gone over this plan earlier. Ambrosius and Ballister would feign a battle while Nimona would grab what Ballister needed for a later project and then escape. Ballister would escape, wagging his fist and claiming he would be back stronger than ever, and Ambrosius would proclaim a victory for the Institute and report back to the Director, purposefully leaving out the new factor in the equation, Nimona. Ballister recalled the plan and took out his own blade, swinging it in a wide, obvious arc. Ambrosius easily parried the sword, and swung back around. Soon, however, guards showed up at the door. They had also discussed this possibility, and Ambrosius would lead them elsewhere. "I have this under control, men. Secure the eastern entrance," is what Ambrosius would say, conveniently leading the guards away from the western exit where Ballister would make his escape. 

However, Ambrosius barely opened his mouth to direct the guards before Nimona shouted. "Goons!" Nimona called. "I'll take care of them." She quickly turned into a wolf and went after the first one. Ambrosius paused his swing as Ballister turned away, facing the new member of their team.

"Nimona, no!" Ballister reached out his hand, attempting to halt Nimona, but she had already maimed and possibly killed two of the three guards. The last one ran out the door.

"He's going to raise the alarm, Boss," Nimona protested as she was pulled back. Ambrosius's eyes widened, realizing the plan had been thrown out of the window. The Institute would now know about Nimona, and Ballister would not be able to get the supplies he needed in the first place. He groan, rubbing his forehead with his free hand and let his sword hang loose in his hand. The alarm soon echoed through the building. Nimona rolled her eyes and put a hand on her hip. "He raised the alarm, Boss." She began to run to chase the guard before Ballister could catch her.

"Nimona!" Ballister shouted after her. He groaned in frustration as she rounded the corner. Ambrosius stood behind him, frozen and trying to think of something to say. 

"This isn't how things are supposed to go," Ambrosius mumbled. He looked to the ceiling just as it was announced that the building was undergoing the self destruct procedure. Ballister began to run after Nimona, but Ambrosius held him back. "We have to get out of here!" Ambrosius began to pull at Ballister, but he would not budge.

"What about Nimona?" 

"We have to leave her behind if we want to escape with our lives," Ambrosius said. "She will be fine, she can change into a turtle or something." 

"What makes you think turtles can survive explosions." Regardless, Ballister ran with Ambrosius, barely making it out before an explosion knocked them forward. Ballister turned, ringing in his ears. He stared at the destruction, horrified at the sight. Ambrosius came up beside him and timidly put a hand on his shoulder. 

"You should go," he said. "There will be more guards here in a minute." He paused before adding. "I'll try to look for her if I can. I'm sorry." Ballister shook his head, leaning on Ambrosius. 

"Thank you," he said. "Its alright. We'll talk about what to do next later." Ballister looked around to make sure they were alone before he kissed Ambrosius on the cheek in goodbye and ran home. 

_____

Ambrosius looked around at the empty barracks and slipped his cloak over his head, pulling the hood to cover his face. He slung a pack over his shoulder, careful not to wake the rest of the sleeping guards and headed for the door. He carefully and slowly stepped over the floorboard that always creaked, opting to place his foot on one he knew was supported by the framework of the timbers under the building. His hair tickled his back under his hood and his pack rustled softly as he moved. Once he reached the door, he turned the knob slowly and backed out of the door frame, careful to open the door wide enough for him to pass, but not wide enough for the hinges to creak and wake the guards trained to sleep with one eye open. Luckily, Ambrosius was also trained in stealth, just in case the Institute needed him to go on an espionage mission. He could easily remain undetected. 

"Going somewhere?" The harsh voice of the Director snapped Ambrosius out of his concentration and caused him to inhale sharply. He glanced back at the barracks, ensuring no one was awakened by the noise. Someone stirred, but Ambrosius quietly and quickly shut the door before he could wake and notice the blond knight. Ambrosius turned to face the woman who had startled him.

"I'm just going to get a drink. Today was rough." Ambrosius avoided the Director's eyes, and tried to pass, turning his shoulders to slip by, not caring if he pushed the Director on his way. The Director merely stepped to the side to block his path. 

"And I suppose that drink will keep you until morning?" The Director forced her gaze into Ambrosius's eyes. "Do not think I do not know where you are going. I have voiced my disapproval before, but never have done anything to enforce it." She circled Ambrosius like a lion would its prey. "I have never had to before, but Blackheart's performance today is making me question your loyalty. Never have you allowed Institute property to be destroyed in the scale it has been today." The director finally stopped her pacing. "So what changed?" She glared at Ambrosius. "I am inclined to believe that you let this happen. I have let you run around with Blackheart before today because I knew that you two would be unable to actually do much harm, and as long as you kept quiet, you would be nothing more than a pesky fly that could be easily swatted away. But now you have a shapeshifter on your side, so I would like to make things perfectly clear. Be grateful to me that I have allowed you freedom as of yet, but do not fool yourself into believing I will not take it from you if you prove that you do not deserve it. If you actually begin to pose a threat to the Institute, I will not have any problem killing you, Blackheart, and your little pet. I'm sure the kingdom will mourn the tragic, accidental, death of their hero before moving on to a new champion. I would prefer not to of course. I would be a pain to cover up."

"So why can't you let me go now? Why must you keep your hold on me if I am easily replaceable?" Ambrosius glared back at the Director, challenging her and standing tall over her. 

"Because I have you where I can keep you in line. If I let you go, you would be free to disgrace the Institute, and people might actually believe you. An error in my judgement perhaps, to let you become as popular as you have become, and it would surely come back to haunt me if I were to let you run free." The Director stared into Ambrosius's eyes. "Oh, and I would not try to run away yourself. It would be a shame if the one you love were to end up dead because you wanted a taste of freedom." 

Ambrosius snarled, but pushed passed the Director. "I'll be back tomorrow." He readjusted his hood to hide the fresh tears of frustration and hopelessness building in his eyes and the pounding of his heart. He needed to lay low for a while. They would need to be extra careful.

_____

Ambrosius managed to avoid the large crowds of nightlife as he traversed through the city on his way to Ballister's home. Most people ignored him, thinking him just another citizen looking for a fun night at a tavern or club, but some looked under his hood for too long, double-taking at the man who looked suspiciously similar to Ambrosius Goldenloin. Ambrosius usually just ducked into an alley or pulled his hood lower. Today, his hood was pulled as low as it could go to hide his face, not wanting anyone to see him in the state that he was in, not wanting to be bothered. 

By the time he reached Ballister's home, his eyes were dried and they were once again the pale blue they always were. He wiped away any moisture that was left and knocked on the door. He waited a few seconds before being answered with a voice on the other side of the door.

"Hello?" Ballister asked. 

"It's me, Ballister" Ambrosius said. The door immediately opened. Ballister pulled Ambrosius into a quick embrace and turned, taking his hand as they walked. Ambrosius let himself be lead to Ballister's lab where Nimona sat, feet up on a desk and soda in hand. Ambrosius was still surprised that she has survived. Ballister had messaged him about her survival hours earlier, and claimed that she had found something important. Ballister advised Ambrosius to meet him in person to discuss the discovery, as it would ensure privacy. 

Ballister scolded Nimona of course and Nimona groaned like a stubborn teenager. Ambrosius merely chuckled at the display as Ballister sat down and shuffled papers into separate piles and set a book to the side.

"As you know," Ballister began, continuing to organize the various notes on his desk. The paper resembled a child's drawing with how messy it was, but Ambrosius knew that Ballister could understand his own handwriting, and that Ambrosius himself would not be able to understand the scientific language even if the print was neat. "Nimona discovered something important in her escape from the Institute." Ballister paused, pulling an old research journal out of the array of papers on the surface. "According to this journal of Institute experiments, the Institute has been experimenting with Jaderoot." Ambrosius gasped.

"Jaderoot?" Ambrosius fumed. "That is extremely foolish of them. They could poison everyone in the kingdom!" Ambrosius removed his hood and set his hands on the table, letting his hair fall around his face. "I guess I should not be surprised. They do not care about people, only their own power." Ambrosius closed his eyes, but felt a warm hand on his back, slowly rubbing comforting circles into his shoulder blades.

"It is alright Ambrosius," Ballister said. "We will stop the Institute with this. This is what we have needed since day one. A way to ruin the Institute's name and turn the people against them. Without the complacency of the people, the Institute is powerless." Ambrosius lifted his head to look into Ballister's eyes.

"Don't give me hope, Ballister. Please." Ambrosius sighed and frowned at the journal. "How would we even go about doing that?"

Ballister took Ambrosius's cheek in his hand, running his thumb over the smooth skin. "Well, first, we would start the rumor. I was thinking a newscast. The anchor being our very own Nimona." Ambrosius looked up to said shapeshifter, who was currently using her tongue--which was now a snake tongue--to drink her soda without even having to lift the can. Ambrosius just stared. Ballister continued. "Then, we would create a illness to add validity to the rumors." Ambrosius gave Ballister a look of slight disapproval. "Non-lethal, of course. Calm down, Ambrosius. You know me well enough to know I don't kill randomly." Nimona groaned.

"Sadly, this is true," she grumbled. Nimona then tossed the empty soda can into the air and scorched it with fire breath. She watched the ashes of the once aluminum can fall to the floor. How metal could turn to ash, Ambrosius did not know and did not want to know. She jumped from her chair and waltzed to the pair. "So basically, Goldilocks, the plan is to tarnish the Institute's name, turn the people to our side, and finally assassinate the Director and dismantle the government." Nimona turned her hands to claws and laughed an evil laugh. "HAHAHAHA! ANARCHY!" 

"Nimona!" Ballister exclaimed, and Ambrosius was almost glad he would have to spend less time in this house. Ambrosius deflated. Why did he remind himself of that? He was almost happy and hopeful again with this plan of Ballister's. Which reminded him, he had to tell Ballister he would be absent most of the time in the next few months at least. Ambrosius was not looking forward to his reaction. He decided that putting it off for longer would only make him more anxious, and sooner was better rather than later.

"Ballister?" Ambrosius spoke softly and gently. "It is a wonderful plan, but can I speak with you about something? Alone?" Nimona wolf-whistled, causing Ambrosius to glare at her. Nimona was not bothered and laughed in response to the expression. Ballister turned to Ambrosius, looking worried.

"Of course." Ambrosius lead then to Ballister's bedroom. Ambrosius sat down on the bed and folded his arms into his lap and sighed. Ballister sat down next to the blond knight and wrapped his arm around his waist. "Is everything alright?"

Ambrosius hummed and leaned into Ballister's side, savoring his warmth. He closed his eyes and let himself forget the moment. He knew he would have to come back to reality eventually, so he finally opened his eyes and spoke. "The Director caught me sneaking away. She is starting to watch me more closely, now that we have Nimona on our side." Ambrosius took a deep breath. "I don't think it is a good idea for me to come as often as I have in the past." 

Ballister sat up straighter, arm still around Ambrosius's back. "What does that mean, exactly?"

"It means that we will most likely only see each other when the Director wants us to. And that is most likely when we are fighting for her _amusement _." Ambrosius spat the word bitterly, scowling at the ground. After a pause, Ambrosius's face melting into one of melancholy. "I have to avoid you if we want to remain safe. I probably won't come home for months. I trust that you and Nimona can carry out the plan without my constant help?" Ambrosius looked into Ballister's eyes. "I would still make sure to help when I can and when it is not obvious, but I cannot help you directly anymore until the Director gets off my back."__

____

"I understand"." Ballister sighed, glancing down and he floor. "I know you told me to not give you hope, but I genuinely believe that this is our best plan in years. We have proof of the Institute's crimes, actual proof, and only have to convince the people too. We have Nimona, who can shapeshift into anyone we want. We could even let her infiltrate the Institute herself if we wanted to." Ballister lowered his voice and leaned in. "But between you and me, she would most likely just try to establish herself as queen if we did that." Ambrosius chuckled and Ballister smiled. "This could be over before a few months has even passed. We could be together, no Institute in the way, for the world to see and recognize. You would be a mercenary and I a scientist. We could even adopt Nimona as our kid if we wanted to." 

Ambrosius laughed, looking to the ceiling. "I don't think she would enjoy that, and me even less so." His smile faded, leaving his face blank. "I don't want to get my hopes up just to be disappointing yet again. I'm sorry, but I just don't think I can take it anymore. Its better to not dream of something until you know it is reachable, lest you kill yourself trying to reach the sky when you are buried under the ground." 

"Always so poetic." Ballister laughed. "Well if this is truly our last night together for a while, lets make it count." Ambrosius looked into Ballister's face and smiled, pulling him in for a kiss. Falling backwards onto the bed, the two clung to each other as if they would perish when separated. The night lasted long after the world was asleep. It was as if the world had disappeared for the night, that nothing really mattered except for the men intertwined in each other's embrace, hearts and minds in rhythm with each other. 

When Ballister awoke, all that was left of Ambrosius was the sting of his lips on Ballister's skin. 

_____

A month past, and Ballister and Nimona were left alone to execute the plan. Sure enough, they first broadcast the news of rumors of the Institute's use of Jaderoot. Of course, Ambrosius was sent in to shut it down, but as he ran down the hall to chase a red rat, finally catching it, he sent it a wink as he exclaimed that it was merely a rat painted red and let it go through a hole in the wall. The Institute denied the allegations, of course, but this was to be expected. 

Next, the apples. Sure, it was straight out of a fairy tale, but it was a classic! The symptoms of the supposed "Jaderoot illness" would not kick in for a couple of weeks, so Ballister occupied himself with plans of a bank robbery and other scientific projects in the meantime. During the actual bank robbery, when Nimona and Ballister made their escape, Nimona in the form of a dragon who was flying away with a certain villain on her back, Ambrosius conveniently waited till the last possible moment to yell fire at his archers. He winced as one of the arrows actually met their mark, and would be sure to apologize to Nimona later, as he intended for her and Ballister to be out of range. He cursed under his breath as if he was angered by their escape, selling the lie. 

Ballister did not plan to resurface much until the apples did their job, but news soon surfaced of a mysterious illness spreading through the kingdom. People began to talk. Was it the Jaderoot that Blackheart was talking about? If the rumors were true, how could the Institute endanger the kingdom like this? Hushed whispers turned to casual conversation in the market place as people grew more outraged and more people became ill. Ballister gained more trust within the kingdom, as the Institute initially pinned the rumors on him. He gained credibility with the people, and some sympathizers made themselves known. The Institute did not show that they were displeased, as it would lend even more credibility to their wrongdoings, but Ambrosius could tell with every scowl and frustrated glance the Director shot his way. He pretended not to notice. She couldn't really do much to him, as he was monitored closely over the past month and showed no signs of working with Ballister. Though that did not stop her from interrogating him.

"It all started when that wretched shapeshifter began to work with Ballister," the Director hissed. Ambrosius stood under the glow of the monitor displaying the news in the kingdom. The segment was titled, "Ballister Blackheart: Villain or Vigilante?" A dark skinned woman with blue hair and a shorter, blonde woman with round glasses sat across from each other in front of a black background and discussed. 

"Ballister Blackheart has been a menace to society for years. From knight in training under the Institute to villain, he has tried to overthrow the Institute time and time again. The question is, has Blackheart been trying to protect us this whole time? Does he have some insider knowledge from his time in the Institute? Is that how he discovered the Jaderoot?" The blue haired woman picked up her mug of coffee and sat back in her chair, legs crossed and free arm draped over the arm rest. "What are your thoughts, Peri?"

The blonde woman tapped at a tablet attached to her forearm. "Well, Laz, according to this poll, the majority of the kingdom, specifically 68%, with an margin of error of 2%, believe that Blackheart has been a hero this whole time and working in favor of the common people. While the rest might not agree that Blackheart is a hero, an alarming 93% of citizens polled, with an almost insignificant margin of error of 0.00001%, believe the Institute does not have the people's best interest at heart!" The woman tapped through her tablet again and Laz sipped her coffee, humming in response. She cradled her cup in her hands and took a breath.

"While I am on the fence about whether or not Blackheart is actually a hero," Laz continued. "I _do _believe that Institute does not really care about us. This would not be the first time they let their ambitions harm the public. Remember that one time with the escaped genetic experiments. The dragon-sheep hybrid nearly burned down the wool farms looking for a mate!"__

____

The Director shut off the program, glowering at the blank screen. Ambrosius turned to face her. "Public opinion has turned against us. We need to get them back on our side!" Ambrosius resisted the urge to laugh at the Director's use of the pronoun 'we', as if he was on their side in the first place. He kept quiet. "I will figure that part out, but you..." She turned to look into Ambrosius's eyes. "I need you to carry out a special mission for me." The director paused, turning back to the screen, and connecting it to a different channel. Pictures of Nimona in the recent bank robbery were displayed on the screen, some of them from the scene itself and some were artist interpretations. "You need to kill the monster. She is too much of a threat to us to be kept alive."

Ambrosius was taken aback. "Kill the girl? She is extremely powerful.." Not to mention an ally, if not a friend. Ambrosius left this part out for obvious reasons. "How could I possibly kill her?" 

"I do not care," The Director massaged her temples. "You will figure it out. I am asking this of you specifically because you still need to prove to me that you are not conspiring against me. I need a figure the public trusts now more than ever, and that is you. But I cannot use you if you are working against me." The Director stood, circling Ambrosius. "If you do not kill her within a week, I will have to deem you not dedicated to the cause. And we both know the consequences of your failure." 

_His blood will be on your hands. _Ambrosius did not need a reminder. He gulped, starring at the floor. "Understood." The Director squinted in his direction.__

____

"Good," she said. "You are dismissed"

_____

The first person Ambrosius thought of to tell was Ballister. Who else would he go to? He strode to his barracks and changed from the bulky armor he wore to a more casual outfit. He tied his hair back into a loose ponytail, leaving a few strands of hair to frame his face. He quickly called Ballister, tapping his foot impatiently as he waited for the call to go through. When Ballister finally answered, Ambrosius went straight to the point. 

"I need you to meet me at The Antlered Snake at seven o'clock tonight. Its important." Ballister nodded. He wrote a quick not on a page and set it to the side, presumably for Nimona to tell her of his whereabouts. 

"I'll be there," Ballister confirmed. Ambrosius let out a breath he did not know he was holding in. His expression softened, and he smiled.

"Its been too long since I've seen you," Ambrosius sighed. He quickly added, "Outside of battles, of course." Ballister smiled softly in response. "I look forward to our meeting." He ended the call and prepared to leave. 

_____

How Nimona got hold of the note before Ballister left was a mystery. Perhaps she was eavesdropping on the call as an inchworm, or a ladybug. Either way, she now knew that Ballister was going to meet Ambrosius. And of course, she had to tease him about it too. "OOooOoOOo!" She cooed. "Ballister is going on a date with his lady friend!" She then promptly turned into a perfect copy of Ambrosius, undifferentiable from the original except for the head of bright red hair. She waved her arms about and puckered her lips. Ballister rolled his eyes and looked straight ahead, trying not to give her too much attention.

"I'll be back no later than midnight," Ballister said, still trying to ignore Nimona, who was now trying her best impression of Ambrosius's speech patterns when he was pitted against them. She placed a hand on her hip and took a sword from a weapons rack to swing in the air. "Please try not to destroy too much. You can put my dinner in the fridge." 

Still in the likeliness of Ambrosius, she said, "Of course my darling. I'll be a good wife and clean the house while you are away!!! Hugs and kisses." She then pranced out of the room, sword still in hand. Ballister rolled his eyes again, imagining Ambrosius's face if he was there to see Nimona's impression of him. He left the house and walked down the path towards town, pulling his hood around his face to prevent recognition. 

Once he reached the tavern where he agreed to meet Ambrosius, he looked around for the familiar head of blond hair. He quickly found Ambrosius sitting at a table for two in the corner of the tavern away from prying eyes. As Ballister approached, he saw Ambrosius notice him and his face light up in joy, almost like how a dog sees its owner after a long day apart and immediately perks up.

Ambrosius stood up and pulled Ballister into a loving embrace before pulling back and kissing him on the cheek. "Oh, how I've been wanting you in my arms for what feels like years." Ambrosius rested his head on Ballister's shoulder in another embrace and Ballister closed his eyes and hummed in agreement. Ballister wanted to never leave the warmth of Ambrosius's arms, but they knew that they had business to discuss, so they reluctantly pulled away and sat down, facing away from the rest of the tavern as much as they could without looking ridiculous or suspicious. Ambrosius passed him a glass. "I already took the liberty to buy the drinks. I remembered that you always loved the warm cider here." 

Ballister took the glass and smiled as he brought the drink to his lips, tasting the spiced cinnamon and apple. "You know me so well, Ambrosius." He set the glass down, watching the spices swirl on top of the steaming liquid. He paused before changing the subject. "What is it that you wanted to talk about?" 

Ambrosius took a long sip of his drink, a deep red cherry wine if Ballister remembered correctly. Ballister had to stifle a laugh at the red stained lips that met him as Ambrosius set the glass down. Ambrosius soon wiped the color away and sighed. "The Director has not relented in her suspicion of me." Ambrosius took Ballister's metal hand, which was now hidden by a glove. He intertwined their fingers and rested the heel of their hands on the table. "She wants me to kill Nimona to prove my loyalty. But you know I could never do that to her. I could never do that to you." 

"Not to mention, you could try to kill me, but you would fail, Goldilocks." Ambrosius startled at the new voice which came from a busty wench carrying a tray of wine, pulling his hand swiftly away from Ballister to grab the hilt of a dagger hidden in his cloak, spilling his drink in the process. The wench set down another cherry wine in front of him and handed him some stained cloth napkins.

Ballister studied her. She had a single ear piercing and a tattoo of a shark on the side of her shoulder. Her tell was the pink pixie cut, a color only Nimona could wear. "When I found out you two were meeting without me, I had to find out what it was about. I'm glad I came, too. I got a good laugh hearing that the Institute thinks you could kill me!" 

Ambrosius blushed as he dabbed at the spilled drink, focusing his eyes on the red puddle and away from Nimona's face. "Well, its more complicated than that." Ambrosius finally scowled up at Nimona after cleaning the mess, challenging her with a stare. "If I don't manage to kill you within the week, the Directors is going to..." Ambrosius trailed off, his voice faltering. He looked down at the new wine glass he had in his hand, eyes stinging with sadness. "She's going to kill you, Ballister." Ballister looked to Ambrosius, who had let his head fall so the strands of hair not tied back covered his eyes. Nimona set down her tray and growled.

"I'd like to see them try," she said cracking her knuckles. 

"I don't want to see them try at all," Ambrosius protested, one hand off of the wine glass and motioning bitterly in the air as he talked. "All these years, it has just been me against you and I made an effort not to kill you." Ambrosius chuckled. "If they try and they outnumber us, they might actually succeed, even with the two of us fighting along side you. Not to mention Nimona could be hurt." Nimona made a sound of disagreement, but one look from Ballister told her that now was not the time. Ambrosius sighed and put his face into his hand. "I'm backed into a corner here, Ballister. I don't know what to do." 

Ballister took Ambrosius's hand in both of his, causing him to lift his face to look at the man in front of him. "Hey," He said, reaching over to place his hand on Ambrosius's cheek. "We will get through this. We have survived all this time, and we have help now." Nimona beamed, awkwardly patting Ambrosius on the back before putting her hands on her hips, still smirking as she did so. "The plan we have so far is working. People are turning against the Institute. We have enough people against them that we could easily rally them to storm the Institute. You might not even have to pretend to kill anyone. We could be victorious before the week is out." Ambrosius looked up, hope apparent in his face, eyes dried and mouth in a wide smile.

"You really think that this could work?" Ambrosius clasped Ballister's hand that was on the side of his face. Ballister nodded, and Ambrosius smiled wider than before. "I think I have an idea. Shall we go back to your place?"

"Of course." Ballister stood, still holding Ambrosius's hand tight, a smile on his face. Nimona wolf-whistled and grinned a mischievous grin. 

"If you too are going to be this gross all night, warn me now so I can turn into a bird and fly away until morning," Nimona teased, smirking. Ballister rolled his eyes and led them out into the night.

_____

"So," Ambrosius began, laying a stack of papers out on the table. Ballister looked over the notes and the scribbles. "The plan." He took one page of notes and began to read them, summarizing the contents out loud to Ballister and Nimona. "First, I convince the Director to hold a joust, advertising me as the main contender, when I will actually be in the Institute, setting a fake trap for Nimona. Me becoming involved in the Institute's well being should increase trust placed in me for a time." Ambrosius handed Ballister a page full of the neat calligraphy that Ambrosius was known for. "Meanwhile, Nimona will rile up the crowds by tampering with the food at the festival, angering the people before Ballister takes over the Institute's radio signals to rally the people against the Institute. If all or most of the people raid the Institute at once, the Institute cannot stop all of them. While they are on their way to storm the Institute, I will 'capture' Ballister and bring him to a reinforced room." Ambrosius shoved another page of notes into Ballister's hand, surprising him away from his reading of the finer details in the print. "That is when Nimona will make a 'rescue attempt' for Ballister. The reinforced walls will then close, trapping us inside." 

"Uh, and how exactly will that help us?" Nimona question, skeptical. Nimona folded a corner of a page of notes over, completing a paper plane and sending it over Ambrosius's head. She jumped into a chair and adjusted herself so her leg was hanging over the armrest and her back was on the seat of the chair. Ambrosius scowled at her, but she paid him no mind, making another plane out of the notes, folding the paper just right so that the wing of the plane sported Nimona's name in bold calligraphy. 

"Well," Ambrosius countered. "It will put us all in the center of the Institute and give us the advantage of surprise. We will defeat the guards while trapped in the hall, and I will give the signal to the Director that I have killed Nimona and taken Ballister captive when in reality, we will all be fine and ready to join the rebels in storming the Institute from the inside." Ambrosius handed Nimona and Ballister a map of the hallway with red x's marked on the walls which Nimona looked over once before grabbing a pink marker from a nearby desk and drawing a dragon in the wide hallway. Ambrosius continued, not noticing Nimona's antics. "These marks are where all the cameras are. In order for the Director to not suspect us, all the cameras need to be 'conveniently' destroyed so the Director cannot see that we are actually all fine. They are hard to see, but you can spot them by looking for the small red light below the lens." 

Ballister looked up from the map. "Okay. So rile up and rally the crowds, fall into the fake trap, destroy cameras, trick the Director, join the raid." Ambrosius nodded, smiling wide. 

"That is it!" Ambrosius laughed, face full of hope. He looked over his notes once again, shuffling the papers before setting them aside. "This could actually work," he told himself in a whisper, barely audible. "We might actually be free. After all these years." Ambrosius looked down at his battle plans, almost not believing his breakthrough. He suddenly slapped his hand down on the table, startling Ballister and Nimona, who dropped her drawing on the floor. "I'm going to bake a pie!" 

Ballister's eyes widened and Nimona stared, amused. "A pie?" Ballister asked, confused at the sudden outburst. "You haven't baked since before the joust, and even then, you made a mess of things. Why do you want to bake a pie now?"

Ambrosius shrugged. "I just feel like it." He walked around to hug Ballister from behind, resting his head on his shoulder like he used to do when Ballister was reading and Ambrosius was watching him skim over the pages, engrossed in the story or the science of the book. "I am hopeful for the first time in years, and I want to celebrate through baked goods." Ambrosius hummed and closed his eyes. He pecked Ballister on the cheek and untangled his arms from Ballister's torso. He practically skipped to the kitchen and called "I hope you have fruit, or we are just going to have crust pie." 

Ballister looked through all the plans again and smiled. Nimona bent to pick up her drawing, which now featured her, Ballister and Ambrosius fighting a dozen faceless guards in the hall with the dragon. She looked at his face and asked," What is it?" Ballister shook his head.

"Oh nothing," His grinned widened as he heard a few soft notes echoing in from the kitchen. "I know it is unwise to get my hopes up, but it is hard not to when this plan is thorough and might actually work. Its surprising really. Ambrosius was never really the brains of the two of us." Nimona looked to the kitchen, where they could hear Ambrosius stumbling over the lyrics to a song he and Ballister knew from their childhood. "Plus, I haven't heard Ambrosius sing in years. This is the happiest he has ever been in so long, it is impossible to not smile." Ambrosius's voice was shaky from years of apathy, but to Ballister, it was beautiful.

_____

Ballister woke up late that day. Finding himself waking at such an hour was a rare occurrence that was usually a result of late night drinking and celebration. Memories flooded back into Ballister's mind as he recalled the night before. The laughing, dancing, the time alone with Ambrosius. Ballister looked to his side to find said blond laying on his stomach, clutching a pillow under his head, covered from the waist down by a white blanket and wearing nothing but his signature mint green tunic, which was falling off of one shoulder as usual. Ballister softly covered Ambrosius up to the shoulders with the rest of the blankets and made his way to his closet, putting on a casual grey button up shirt and pants. Ballister started to leave for the door when a paper was slipped under the threshold. Ballister picked it up and unfolded it.

The door opened to reveal Nimona, standing smug with her arms crossed, leaning against the door frame. Ballister read the paper detailing a science fair being held in town that very day. "I figured we could all have one fun day before rushing in to destroy the Institute," Nimona said, smiling. "What do ya' say, boss? I even got you and Goldilocks some fake beards and mustaches. You know, to 'be cautious'." She said the words like they were a ridiculous concept, using her fingers as air quotes in the process. Nimona lowered her hands, putting them on her her hips and raised her eyebrows, smiling. Ballister glanced back at Ambrosius, who looked significantly smaller under all the bed sheets and blankets. Ambrosius let out a small hum as he curled further into the pile.

"As soon as he wakes up," Ballister answered, "Then we will go. We'll grab breakfast on the way." Nimona jumped and pumped her fist.

"Yesss!" She celebrated. "We should go to McDougles, or Burger Queen. They have awesome breakfast sandwiches." Nimona scampered off to her room to get ready, and presumably to retrieve the fake facial hair for the two men who could sadly not shapeshift. Ambrosius shifted in the bed and Ballister walked over to his side. He looked down at Ambrosius's sleeping form and gently brushed a strand of hair from his face and leaning down to plant a kiss on his forehead. He began to walk away when he suddenly felt a soft hand gripping his wrist. He looked down to see Ambrosius, sleepy but awake smiling up at him. 

Ambrosius yawned, and laughed. "Just imagine. We will be able to wake up next to each other everyday when this is all over." Ambrosius sat up, causing the mountain of blankets to fall to the side. He stood up and stretched his arms into the sky, letting them fall onto Ballister's shoulders once he had stretched the stiffness from his spine. He wrapped his harms around Ballister's neck loosely, letting his hands hang behind Ballister's back. Ambrosius leaned in for a short kiss before resting his head on Ballister's shoulder. "Good morning, love." 

Ballister drew in a breath. Ambrosius never really called him that anymore, nor did he ever say it was a good morning. Ballister looked back on all the days before this one. The tired sighs as Ambrosius left his house after a night together, the bags under his eyes as he walked on his way to the Institute barracks. The limp arms and the hunched back and the tangled hair and the tight frowns. Ballister knew that the years had taken a toll on Ambrosius, and he always tried to support some of the burden, but he never really realized how much of Ambrosius was actually gone. His energy, his passion, hell, even his ego had all been smothered by the Director and her control.

In that moment, when Ballister saw the old, happier Ambrosius starting to emerge from the depths of his being, the Ambrosius who stood tall, who called him sweet names and said small greetings in the morning, who baked and made a mess of the kitchen, who sang out of tune and off key, who walked with grace and a certain elegance only Ambrosius could muster, who kissed him and held him and loved him with the same energy as years past. When that Ambrosius began to make himself known once again, Ballister could not help but feel that part of himself had returned too.

_____

Ambrosius, hand in hand with Ballister, scratched at the surprisingly twirly blond mustache and scruffy beard that Nimona provided to him. His hair was tied into a messy bun rested on top of his head that was covered by a cap. If someone looked really closely, or knew that it was Ambrosius, they would recognize him, but at first glance, he was an entirely different person. Ballister had on a full beard and a hood to cover his likeliness and Nimona was disguised as a young boy with black hair. They looked like a happy family almost, if not for Nimona's natural look of mischief on her face, no matter what form she took. 

When asked about the science fair, Ambrosius immediately jumped on the chance to spend more time with Ballister, no matter if he would not understand most of the things on display at the fair itself. He would be there to support Ballister, asking questions and watching him speak passionately about the intellectual subjects he invested himself in. Ballister would never admit it, but Ambrosius knew the years had changed him too. He was so focused on Ambrosius's well being and happiness in their moments together that he never spoke about himself, his own interests, his own life. It was rare to actually see him talk about something other than what Ambrosius enjoyed in an attempt to make him smile. He would try to ask about Ballister's latest project, but Ballister would eventually find some way to derail the conversation back to Ambrosius. The knight knew that today would be something special.

They had just came from a tent displaying magical creatures tamed to do tricks, and it was a tent more to entertain children than offer any scientific research, though the explanation of the animal's behaviors and how to care for them was fascinating. Nimona was properly entertained by the fire-breathing gecko, so the trip to the tent was successful. The two men were particularly happy that Nimona had not set anything on fire in the process. The scientist in charge had assured them that the tent was fireproofed and the only things that would catch on fire were the people in the tent. Ambrosius was not so assured after that statement, so they left quickly.

They were currently headed to a booth dealing with different chemical formulas when Nimona tugged on Ballister's cloak. "Look! Churros!" She called, running off towards the fried cinnamon dough stand before Ballister could reply. He sighed and Ambrosius just shook his head at Nimona's antics. The two men followed the shapeshifter as she demanded a churro from the woman in the stand. The woman looked at Ambrosius and Ballister, then down at Nimona.

The woman retrieved the churro, and held it over the counter just out of Nimona's reach. "But first, have you been good to your dads?" Nimona nodded, eyeing the sugar filled treat with wide eyes and a devious smile. The woman handed Nimona the food while Ballister dug through his pockets to hand her the proper payment. "He really takes after you," the woman told Ballister, pulling her hand back quickly from Nimona, who snatched the churro viciously. "Did you adopt?" Ballister looked to the woman and then to Ambrosius, who stepped in.

"Of course, from the orphanage down the way," he said, handing the woman more money, pointing towards the center of town. "Could I also have a churro, please."

"Certainly," the woman said, reaching for another. "Me and my wife had been looking to adopt soon. I'll have to tell her about this place." She handed Ambrosius the snack. "If it is not to much to ask, could you tell me how to apply?" 

"Oh its simple, really," Ambrosius said, taking a bite of the churro. He swallowed before continuing. "You can walk in and take an application from the secretary at the front desk, fill it out, and then you will be put on a waiting list. When you are called, usually no more than a month later, you can schedule and appointment to meet some of the children in the age group you are looking for, and you can either adopt on that day, or go home to talk over it with your wife and call back. You can also visit multiple times before you actually adopt, calling for an appointment first of course." The woman nodded along to Ambrosius's explanation while Ballister looked on in amazement. 

"Thank you so much," the woman said. "My wife will be happy to hear this." She waved as the two men left to chase down Nimona, who was now poking at a carnivorous plant at a tent across the road, much to the scientist's displeasure. 

"It is no trouble. And congratulations to you and your wife," Ambrosius called back, being pulled along by Ballister. He sent one final wave to the woman and turned back to the task of retrieving Nimona. Ballister looked forward, avoiding Ambrosius's eyes.

"How did you know all of that?" Ballister asked. "The Institute never let anyone even consider adopting any of the orphans in their care. They just wanted soldiers." 

"The orphanage I was talking about is not run by the Institute," Ambrosius explained, gripping Ballister's hand tighter, as if he was afraid he would pull away. "And I knew all of that because I was curious. It does not necessarily mean I expect children. That is something we need to discuss together." He stopped Ballister, moving to stand in front of him and looked him in the eyes. "I do not want you to feel pressured by anything. I would never force you to do anything you do not one hundred percent want to do." Ballister nodded and smiled.

"Of course," He said. "I'm sorry." 

"Hey," Ambrosius said. "Do not apologize for your feelings." Ambrosius put his hands on Ballister's shoulders. He leaned forwards and kissed Ballister on the forehead before pulling back and quickly adjusting the mustache to make sure it had not been moved. He returned to his place beside Ballister and took his hand, leaning his head on Ballister's shoulder. Ballister smiled and closed his eyes at the gesture. After a moment, the two men began to search for Nimona, who was now being shooed away from the stand for sticking her finger in a plant's mouth and quickly pulling back before the plant could shut. "We should probably retrieve this child though." Ballister chuckled and nodded.

"Is this one yours?" the scientist demanded as they approached. "He is tampering with my plants. Now this one is going to digest itself if I do not open it!" The man glared at the two men and Nimona, who was hiding behind Ballister's cloak, gnawing on her churro and smiling mischievously. 

"We apologize," Ballister said. "I could help you if you needed." 

"You have done enough," the man growled. "Just leave." 

Ballister sighed. "Very well. Gregor!" Nimona stood up straighter. "No television when we get home!"

Nimona rolled her eyes. "But dad!" she whined, stomping her foot like a spoiled child. She pulled on Ambrosius's pant leg. "Pops, tell him he is being mean." 

Ambrosius narrowed his eyes, taking her hand and pulling her away from the stand. Once they were out of earshot, Ambrosius rolled his eyes and said, "You two are ridiculous, especially you, Nimona." 

"Its Gregor to you, fancy man," Nimona hissed, taking a bite of her churro. Her attention was quickly diverted from the blond to a stand advertising a robot fight. "Oooh! Robo fight!" Nimona ran off in the direction of the stand, leaving Ambrosius in the dust. 

"I'll try to keep her in line if you want to look at some actual science stuff," Ambrosius suggested, squeezing Ballister's hand. "Meet back here in an hour?"

Ballister nodded and slipped a hand around Ambrosius's shoulders. "That would be wonderful, thank you." He planted a kiss on the blond's cheek and started to walk towards some stands he was interested in. "Stay safe!" Ambrosius nodded a thanks and ran after Nimona, barely keeping up as she left from the robot fight stand to a stand all about the science of slime. Ballister shook his head and turned towards the rest of the fair.

_____

A while later, after Ballister had looked at most of what he wanted to, he met up with Ambrosius and Nimona, who was now a cat resting on Ambrosius's shoulders, tail curled softly around his neck. Ballister smiled at the sight. Nimona and Ambrosius did not really have that close of a bond, but they still trusted each other and had their care of Ballister in common. Ambrosius greeted him by clasping Ballister's hand in his. 

"Have fun?" Ambrosius asked casually. Ballister nodded. "Should we leave soon?" 

Ballister shook his head. "There are a couple more things I want to see that I haven't gotten to yet. Once we do, then we can leave." Ambrosius hummed, squeezing Ballister's hand. "Today was a much needed break." Ballister turned his head to look at the blond. "Thank you for coming, even if Nimona dragged us apart for most of the time."

"Of course. I'm glad we could focus on relaxing for once, especially before... what we are about to do." Ambrosius turned his head, careful to not disturb Nimona. "Lead the way, love." Ballister smiled beneath the scratchy fake beard, walking towards the stands he had yet to see. Ambrosius asked him a question about something he and Nimona saw, and Ballister gladly explained. Ambrosius watched as Ballister waved his free hand through the air as he explained how inventions worked. He watched as Ballister discussed the intricacy of electricity with another scientist, debating and conversing passionately in a way that Ambrosius admired greatly. Nimona slept on, tail flicking occasionally as she dreamed of churros and magical dragons. They were at peace, in the calm before the storm. 

The last stand they came to was one with a woman wearing goggles that covered her eyes and her white hair tied down her back. In front of her on the table was a green glowing bulb. Ambrosius watched as Ballister asked the woman about the bulb, and what it did. Ambrosius did not really pay attention to the explanation, as he would not understand it anyway. Instead, he held his hand up in front of Nimona's face as she woke, and wincing she she stretched, planting her claws into his shoulder. 

Suddenly, the green bulb on the table went out. It was at that time that Ambrosius noticed some guards looking in their direction, whispering and walking towards them. He subtly tugged on Ballister's sleeve, and Ballister noticed the guards as well. He began to say a goodbye to the woman, who handed his her card when the bulb suddenly glowed brighter than it had been glowing before, causing Ballister's hood to fall down from his face with a breeze that followed the surge of energy. The guards, who were suspicious before were now certainly chasing after them. Ballister ran, pulling Ambrosius and consequently Nimona along with him. Unfortunately for Ambrosius, she hung onto his shoulder with her claws, surely drawing blood in the process. When they were finally out of sight, Ballister turned to Ambrosius, who was looking out of the alley way to make sure they were not followed. 

"I should get going," Ambrosius said, removing the beard and mustache from his face. "If they see me here, the Director will grow even more suspicious, and we do not need that right now." Ballister took his hand as he continued to watch out of the alley way. He finally turned to face Ballister and smiled. "Today was fun. Stay safe." He leaned forward to press a quick kiss to Ballister's lips before pulling the hat down to hide his face and whisking away from the alley in the opposite direction of the fair. Ballister turned to Nimona, who was clawing at the ground and kicking up dirt, agitated and still very much a cat. 

"Why haven't you turned back yet?" Ballister questioned. Nimona merely hissed and clawed at his in response. " What does that mean? That you can't change back?" 

_____

Less than a week after the fair, Ambrosius Ballister and Nimona had begun what they had planned to do. The plan itself started off perfectly. Ambrosius was able to set up a fake joust with the Director, who was unfortunately still slightly suspicious, but honestly, that was to be expected. Either way, she agreed to the joust and the trick for Ballister, unknowing that it was to be a betrayal on Ambrosius's part. Nimona and Ballister successfully riled up the crowds and Ambrosius led them into the fake trap. They had destroyed all the cameras, and only needed to overpower the rest of the guards. They had the upper hand, they had the shapeshifter and the two powerful Institute-trained soldiers. But it only takes one accident for everything to go wrong. 

Nimona lost her head. Not in the way that describes someone who went mad, but her head was literally separated from her shoulders. Ballister called out her name and Ambrosius froze, sword lowering in his hand, watching in horror as Ballister ran over to impale the one man who had killed her. Ambrosius felt arms around his arms, retraining him, calling him traitor, villain, evil, working with a monster and a murderer. He dropped his sword as his arms were twisted behind him, but he hardly cared. 

They had failed, Nimona was dead, and Ballister was next. They had failed, and they would never be free now, unless some miracle occurred and the Director realized that she was actually not a cold-hearted witch and let them go. Even then, Nimona would still be dead. Ambrosius bowed his head, not caring if the others saw the tears falling to the floor. _His blood is on your hands, Ambrosius. He is dead because of you and your ridiculous plan. You might as well be dead too._ He dropped to his knees, submitting to the hands holding him down and the thoughts crushing his chest, suffocating him with their accusations and jeers. _Your fault, monster. You can only hurt him. Ballister does not need you. His blood is on your hands. _Ambrosius accepted the fate that awaited him. It was most likely death, and he deserved it.__

_____ _

____

Then Nimona rose to her feet. She turned black, magma spilling through her scales, fire trickling from her mouth and melting to the floor. Ambrosius was dropped as the guards readied their weapons. He lifted himself off of his hands and knees, still drowning in self doubt and hatred, and looked up. He stared into the blood red eyes that stared back down at him. He scrambled backwards, clambering for his shield, barely activating the protective energy field before the white hot fire was blasted in his direction, immediately turning the guards to ash. Ambrosius could feel small licks of fire barely brush the skin on his arms before dissipating, leaving only red streaks here and there. The force of the fire pushed him to the floor, hitting his head on the hard floor. His vision swam in and out of darkness, and he struggled to hold his shield up. A dull ache spread through his temples, but Ambrosius's senses were muffled, and he could barely feel any pain from the impact or the heat surrounding him. He heard someone calling his name as he fell into unconsciousness. The last thing he saw was the beast carrying Ballister away from the hall. He was reaching out as if to grab Ambrosius, but was pulled away from him too quickly. 

_____

"Nimona!" Ballister called as she broke though his door. He was irritated, afraid, confused. Nimona had just left Ambrosius there to either die, be captured , or to be captured and then killed. He wriggled from her grip, pushing himself away from her. He finally fell from her grip not very gracefully to the floor, catching himself on his hands before using the wall to help himself to his feet. He looked past Nimona to the now broken door, desperate. "We have to go back. We cannot just leave Ambrosius there!" Ballister tried to push past Nimona, but she just held him back. He struck her hand halfheartedly, tired from the heat and growing increasingly anxious, but Nimona did not even flinch at the weak effort. "Get out of my way!" 

"It is too dangerous to go back for him, boss," she said calmly, absorbing another round of pushes. "It is probably too late for him, anyway." Ballister stopped his assault, staring up at Nimona, horrified and melancholic. 

"How could you say that?" Ballister choked. He tried to push past Nimona once more, weakened by sorrow and exhaustion. His head fell limp as he leaned onto the shapeshifter for support, his hair falling out of its usually neat style and into his face. He took a deep breath and attempted to swallow the lump in his throat. Quieter, he pleaded, "We need to find out if he...if he died." 

Nimona put her hands on his shoulders, his head still low. "I'll go out to look for him, okay. I'm harder to keep down." Nimona leaned him against the wall to support him and began to leave when Ballister put his hand on her shoulder. 

"That is an understatement," he said. "You were dead, I saw you die." Ballister was glad that he had not lost Nimona as well, but he was confused. Sure, she had healed remarkably quickly, even for a shapeshifter, but self-resurrection was unheard of. Even master sorcerers could not place an instant reanimation spell on themselves when they died. Even when they somehow discovered a method, the results usually backfired and they became mindless thralls for the first person to come along and discover them.

"That was just a trick," Nimona said, shrugging Ballister off, not meeting his eyes. "I'll be back in a few. Don't wait up." She transformed into a bird and flew off, Ignoring Ballister's shouts after her. 

_____

Ballister was tired. He was tired of the fighting, of the death, of the fire, of the lies. He was exhausted. Nimona was gone, left after a fight. She came back, new hair and a scowl on her face, news of people trapped by the Institution, people dead by Ballister's own design, news of censorship. There was no news of Ambrosius though. The only news Ballister really cared about. Ballister demanded answers from her, about how she was alive. Why did she hide her true potential, why did she lie about her backstory, why could she die, but be fine moments later. Ballister should not have backed her into the corner with his questions. Maybe she would not have left.

Still curious, he called Blitzmeyer. She told him ancient stories of a beast who could change shape, regenerate wounds, who supposedly died, slain by a hero. Ballister worked on a cure, one he should have worked on months ago. He called Nimona, hoping for an answer but only receiving silence. He went to the quarantined, he banished the illness from their bodies and stood a hero over the people oppressed by the Institute. He recalled a pain in the back of his head, and then nothing.

Captured and sentenced to death, he awoke to an unfamiliar ceiling, a cold floor, and a stranger standing guard over him. He asked where he was, and was ignored. He sat on the metal bench in his prison, staring at the green field of energy blockading him away from his freedom. It was not like he sought freedom, anyway. The love of his life was most likely dead, and the only friend he had in years was gone, and probably hated him. Ballister merely waited for his death. 

"Prisoner!" the guard finally addressed him. Ballister looked up to see multiple guards at the door, flanked by a familiar head of blond hair. Ambrosius hung his head low, not looking up, not noticing Ballister, who jumped from his seat to race towards the wall of energy, desperate to be seen. "The Director has sent for you."

Ballister paid the guard no mind. "Ambrosius," he gasped, and the ex-knight looked up, eyes widening. 

"Ballister," he said, simply, like a fact of life, something beautiful in the world that was just a guarantee. He straightened his back and lifted his chin, hopeful, yet still broken, as if he had also accepted death, but now knew that he would not die without Ballister by his side. Ballister was restrained as the field was let down, arms behind his back. He struggled against the guards, pulling forward to reach Ambrosius, and Ambrosius was trying to do the same. Both failed as more guards held their arms and shoulders and wrists. They gave up, but were content with each other's presence, knowing that they would still be there for each other, despite the distance. 

Ballister, still restrained, was pushed into line, following Ambrosius and the guards surrounding him. They were lead down a long hall, presumably in the basement of an Institute facility. A loud repeated thundering echoed through the hall, almost like the banging of a hammer, becoming louder with each step forward. The procession finally reached doors that lead into a research facility of some kind filled to the brim with the green glow of Jaderoot.

"What is that?" Ballister whispered under his breath. A feeling of dread settled into his stomach as he noticed Ambrosius looking around ahead of him. Whatever it was, he guessed it was not good. However, his dread was finally answered when the procession rounded a corner and there, in a rage, slamming against the healing walls of her prison, was Nimona. She transformed from a rhinoceros to a lion to a dragon, with scales and claws and horns, trying to break the cage that only covered the cracks she had formed seconds earlier. She transformed back to the girl that Ballister knew.

She looked to him and pressed her hands up against the transparent walls in front of her. "Boss!" She called, surprised, desperate. She changed into a grand serpent, biting at the barrier to no avail. The Director stood in front of her cage, back to Ballister.

"We knew she would respond to the news of your and Goldenloin's impending execution." The Director turned to the two men, standing tall and authoritative. "I should thank you for being wonderfully useful as bait, as you were not very useful for anything else, especially you, Goldenloin." She narrowed her eyes at the blond, who hung his head, letting his hair fall into his face, his eyes still turned towards the Director in a piercing glare. "You have been a failure time and time again, not only to me, but to Blackheart. Such a shame. You had so much potential."

"Stop it," Ballister snapped. His face contorted into a glare, challenging the Director. She was unmoved. "You have no right to talk to him like that. You stamped out any of his commitment to you the second you hurt me and blamed him for it." Ambrosius lifted his head slightly, his eyes turning dark and sorrowful and towards Ballister, still partly covered by his hair. "You cannot scold him when you set him up to fail you from the start." The Director glared and turned back to Nimona, unbothered by Ballister's words. She whispered something into her headset, and a shock enveloped the interior of Nimona's prison. She merely adapted, changing into an eel, into an electric reptile. The Director hummed her disapproval. 

"You can't hold her forever," Ballister shouted. "What do you think she is going to do when she gets out!" Ballister struggled against the guards, challenging the Director, even when her back was turned. She was still not fazed by Ballister's threat.

"she won't be getting out," she said, signalling the guards holding Ballister. They nodded, preparing a spear, its tip sparkling with energy. Ballister realized what was about to happen. Ambrosius's eyes widened as he watched, struggling against the guards restraining his arms behind his back. Ballister felt a scalding, white-hot pain flare from his side, spreading over his body. He fell limp, feeling strong arms holding him upright.

"Ballister!"

"Boss!" 

Ballister's head was ringing, he struggled to open his eyes, but could see the blurred silhouettes of Ambrosius, who was fighting his guards with a new energy, and Nimona, who now stood still, complacent. It was as if the two had switched places, Ambrosius gaining the energy Nimona had just seconds ago. The Director glared at Ambrosius, who had one arm free and was using it to fight back, stronger than before. The Director, unthreatened, nodded her head in Ambrosius's direction. In response, the guard with the electric spear jabbed it towards Ambrosius. Seeing the attack he dodged out of the way and pulled a guard into the line of fire. The guard went down, letting go of Ambrosius's other hand. Ambrosius grabbed the shaft of the spear with both of his hands, wrenching it free and holding it in front of him. 

Ballister watched, as if time had slowed, as the Director calmly raised a concealed pistol and aimed it towards Ambrosius. Ambrosius froze, but sprung into action a second later, holding the spear out in front of him. Knowing she had Ambrosius's attention but not his compliance, the Director merely pointed the gun towards Ballister's forehead, adapting her strategy to something she knew would work. Ambrosius froze, faltering in his step and lowering his weapon just enough for the guards to grab his wrists and steal back the spear. Nimona watched in horror, not even noticing her blood being drawn from her forearm. The Director kept the gun aimed at Ballister until Ambrosius was held down, knees on the floor, by at least five guards. The guards also stuck the spear in his side for good measure, and he gasped and fell to the floor, catching himself on his shaking hands before collapsing entirely, exhausted. Ballister tried to call his name, but all that escaped his lips was a small groan, still affected by his own shock. 

Nimona sat on the floor, arms on her knees and head down. She brought her head up, eyes white and teeth sharp, laughing. People off to the side were shouting, panicked at something that was growing in the labs. Nimona growled.

"You went looking for a monster, well here I am." 

_____

Ambrosius took a deep breath, ignoring the ache in his side from the shock he received hours ago. He lowered the green visor connected to the armor he wore before being captured by the Institute for his betrayal. He still could not believe that only hours ago, he was in a prison cell, apathetic and ready to die, to finally sleep. He had lost, and he accepted that, just wanting rest. One name kept him from begging the guard to kill him there, and that name was Ballister's. Ambrosius did not know if he was alive, so he asked the guard if he knew anything. The guard was silent, through his yelling and screaming and banging on the electric wall with fists, bloody and burned, until Ambrosius finally gave up and sank against the wall, head in his hands, hair tangled and a bloody mess. 

Now, Ambrosius was facing his friend turned unstable monster, who had just killed the woman who held him in the palm of her hand for years, burned to ash with nothing left to bury. He had followed Ballister's instructions. Evacuate the public, wait for his return with the glowing green device from the science fair, occupy Nimona, the monstrous half of Nimona, long enough for Ballister to go get the other Nimona so they can get the beast under control. Ambrosius had hidden the device. He could still feel the brush of Ballister's lips on his, the touch of his hand on his cheek. The taste of the words uttered in desperation, just in case they died that night. 

Ambrosius walked into the massive chamber, stepping through the ashes of the Director, kicking them behind him. He did not care, nor did he feel any sympathy for her. He forgot her a moment later, focusing on the task at hand. He looked up, found the monster of magma and scales starring down at him, huffing, and glowering. Ambrosius reached forward.

"Nimona," he said, I won't fight you." Nimona growled in response, lowering her head to his eye level. Ambrosius placed his hand on her nose, feeling the heat and the rough skin. "Ballister is on his way. I'm not here to hurt you." Nimona growled and pulled away, angry.

"Then why did you bring that thing with you," she hissed. "You don't want me to heal, to come back, so you brought it here to hurt me. You want to fight me, the noble knight, protecting his love from the monster who came into his life, offering help, who became too much for even him." Nimona snapped at his hand, and Ambrosius pulled back, hand on the hilt of his sword. "See," Nimona laughed, but in this form it sounded like a growl. "You are scared, and would feel better with me gone." She swiped at him, lunging and biting. Ambrosius hid around the corner. Ambrosius closed his eyes, preparing his shield and unsheathing his blade. 

"I'm sorry Ballister." He rounded the corner, ready to fight. "I'm sorry, Nimona."

_____

Ambrosius woke to bright lights and pain. Bitten across the chest, burned in patches here and there, clawed across the face. He could feel the rough scratch of the bandages covering his eye, if the eye was even still there. He groaned, shifting his shoulder. He could remember the fight clearly. He and Nimona were pretty evenly matched, and he actually had gained the upper hand, ready to make the killing blow when Nimona swiped at his face, blinding him to her attack, tossing him across the room and causing him to sway in and out of unconsciousness. The rest was a blur. He saw the face of Ballister, felt his arms around his body, lifting him up. A blinding white light he thought was him dying until it faded and he still heard Ballister's voice, saying that it was over, that they had won. What was left unspoken was that they were free, free from the Institute, from the Director and from her lies. After all the years spent hiding, fearing, apathetic and yet hopeful that the next crazy scheme would be their last, they were finally victorious.

Ambrosius remembered smiling, pain flaring from his injuries, but he fell into darkness a second later, so it did not matter. 

"Bal...," Ambrosius called, quiet and weak. "Ballister?" He tried lifting his head, but let it fall back against the bed a second later, too weak to support it. The doctor left quickly, footsteps echoing through the room and out into the hall. Ambrosius waited, time passing by slowly, making the wait seem like hours. 

He did not remember falling back asleep, but when he woke again, a rough hand was on top of his, absentmindedly rubbing circles into his palm. He heard voices. 

"He was awake for a minute earlier," a voice said, professional and calm. The doctor, Ambrosius figured. "He tried to lift his head, but the effort must have put him to sleep again.

"Well, I'll be here when he wakes again," the second voice assured. This was Ballister, Ambrosius knew. He could never not know Ballister's voice. 

"Sir Blackheart, you need your rest," the doctor insisted.

"It is not like I will be doing anything besides sitting in this chair," Ballister argued. "I'll be fine." 

Ambrosius groaned, finally feeling himself waking more. Ballister and the doctor stopped talking. The doctor's footsteps circled around his bed, and various clicks and beeps told Ambrosius that she was checking the machines surrounding his sleeping form. He felt her hands on his arms and head, checking bandages and syringes. Satisfied, the doctor left, telling Ballister to call if she was needed. Ambrosius opened his eyes, well, eye as the other was wrapped in bandages still. He turned his head towards Ballister, who smiled as if Ambrosius was the most beautiful treasure in the world.

"I'm glad you're awake," Ballister said, using his other hand to brush the hair out of Ambrosius's face, the metal cold and soothing on Ambrosius's skin. The blond smiled.

"What did I miss?" he asked. Ballister sighed and frowned, suddenly sour.

"Well," he began. "Nimona is gone, but not dead. She actually visited us before she left. I couldn't talk to her though. I only saw her in the crowd when she disappeared." Ambrosius sighed, glad for her survival. He did not even know that Ballister thought her dead after the battle, as he was out for the end of it, but he was still relieved. He and Nimona might not have been on the best of terms the last time he saw her, but she was still his friend who had helped free him and Ballister from the Institute. Ambrosius lifted his hand and placed it on Ballister's cheek, beaming at the ex-villain. 

"We won," he said, laughing. Ballister rested a hand on Ambrosius's, nodding. 

"We won." 

_____

It had been a while since Nimona's disappearance. Ballister's eyes still roamed the crowds and the faces, searching for hers, waiting to welcome her back home. He never saw her of course, only glimpses of pink hair, a casual smirk in his direction, an animal watching him through an alley. Ambrosius never told him the constant searching was worthless, he only took his hand as Ballister looked down in disappointment and kissed him on the cheek, assuring him that Nimona was still with them, even if not physically. 

"You say that like she is dead," Ballister would say, but he would accept the kiss and tangle their fingers together anyway. The two ex-knights, about a week after the Institute's destruction, without worry of denial of their word, told the public of the Institute's crimes against them. How it was them who disabled Ballister, who blackmailed Ambrosius, who forced them to lie and hide for years of their lives. The interviewer, who had originally called them in to talk about the incident of the "beast of magma" and what was next for the kingdom, was shocked at their testimony. The kingdom soon rallied with them, many people coming forward with their own stories of how the Institute wronged them.

"The Institute imposed ridiculous taxes for a year on the most basic of products, like food, and even water from my own well," one farmer said, her voice shaking in anger and sadness. "I fell into so large a debt, that one night, I find my son missing. I looked for him after the Institute was destroyed, and found he had been killed in a war the Institute started years ago. He would have only been 17 years old at the time." The woman sniffed, tears welling up in her eyes. 

"The Institute "conveniently" let out a lion-tiger hybrid into the cattle farms of my home, in the outskirts of the kingdom," another man said. "We were due for a surplus of milk and meat that year. I could have finally sent my kids to the city with the money I would have made, to study the sciences and the arts. It was their dream to go. Over half of the herd was killed, setting my family back years. The Institute's mass produced cattle in their private farms sold more than usual that year." 

"I'm arguably, one of the best smiths in the kingdom," one person said. "The Institute needed armor, so they demanded free services, claiming the authority to take from citizens as they please as a 'tax'. When I demanded payment in return, the Institute did like they did to sir Goldenloin and threatened my family. I was furious, but had no choice but to swallow my tongue and provide the service. I was left without materials and without the money to pay for more. I am glad the Institute finally paid." 

"I made the mistake of protesting the Institute recently, after Blackheart called for revolution," one man claimed, face and name blurred as he wanted to remain anonymous. "We were all taken to a secret facility, who knows where. Some people were selected to do labor, some to become soldiers, and some, like me, were selected to be lab rats in a series of experiments. I personally was pumped full of different diseases, then different drugs to see how the diseases and supposed cures would affect me. I was liberated too late, even after news of the Institute's fall. I am still sick, and many like me have died. The most horrifying part was that I met people who had been there for years."

The people for the kingdom rallied together, astonishingly, and demanded a democracy, a government ruled by the people, not by one lying tyrannical organization with a king as a figurehead. They called for Blackheart to lead, for Ambrosius to stand by his side. The two ex-soldiers turned the power down, but of course aided in the formation of a different government, one with elections and representatives, shutting anyone down that tried to take advantage of the power vacuum, promising the implementation of a constitution, taking advice from everyone to make it as much of a people-created government as possible. Ballister organized the election of different members of the advisory team, who would all lead together. The framework of a working government was implemented within months, and Ballister was finally able to step back to let actual leaders take charge and focus on himself. 

He did eventual focus on the sciences like Ambrosius said he would, opening a laboratory with Dr. Blitzmeyer studying anomalous energy. After all, he owned her a new prototype, he said to Ambrosius jokingly. Ambrosius laughed gleefully, hand in hand with Ballister as they sat in a park, enjoying the day, being out in public like they could not before. By this point, it was months after the fall of the Institute, and Ambrosius and Ballister spent almost all of the time together, making up for lost time. They found time for themselves, of course, to maintain a healthy relationship by spending some time apart, but honestly, neither of them wanted very much time alone. Of course, they would grow into a rhythm and figure out their own paths, but for now, they were content to spend as much time around each other as they deemed necessary. 

Ambrosius was still not healed enough to become any kind of mercenary like he thought he would. Instead, he spent his time either with Ballister, reading, or doing as much work for the community that he was able to. He still wanted to help people, like he originally wanted to all those years ago when he was barely an adult just before the joust. Scheduling cleanups for the neighborhoods. Distributing food for those displaced by damage one to the city. Using his platform to encourage charity and giving within the kingdom. Anything that might help that did not involve too much physical labor, Ambrosius would gladly do. Ballister watched as the man he once knew grew from the broken shell of the puppet the Institute had under their control. Ballister smiled. 

They finally got engaged, after month of talking about it. Ambrosius knew he should have seen it coming, but he still covered his face in surprise, lifting Ballister into his arms and swinging him around, ignoring the pain in his leg, putting him down and finally leaning in for a kiss. He did not say a word, but Ballister already knew the answer. Ambrosius had to admit, it was quite romantic of Ballister to take him to the roof of the very same Institute orphanage they grew up in. It was being demolished, of course, like most of the Institute buildings that had not been reclaimed already. The rest of the children were placed into either foster homes or other, private orphanages around the city where they would not doubt be treated better and grow up in a loving environment. 

Ballister had led him up to the roof after sneaking in through the gates blocking trespassers from entering. "What are they going to do?" Ballister laughed. "Arrest the heroes of the kingdom?" Ambrosius laughed along with Ballister as he was dragged by the hand through the doors of his childhood home. If he could even call it a home. 

"I'm glad to see the fame has not gone to your head." Ballister laughed again at Ambrosius's comment, leading the blond up the stairs, carefully supporting the weight that Ambrosius's leg could not at the time. They finally made it to the roof and sat down, reminiscing on days past when they had the future ahead of them and still saw the Institute as semi-good. They fell into a steady, comfortable silence, watching the stars fall and the moon shine. Ambrosius laid his head on Ballister's lap like he used to do as Ballister propped himself up with his arms, sitting upright. 

When Ambrosius finally suggested they leave, that was when Ballister called for him to wait. He fingered the small ring he had in his pocket, a simple silver ban with a red gemstone in the center. Ballister's ring would later be a golden band with a mint green stone to match. He spoke simply, of how much he admired the man before him, of how much he loved him, of how he could not imagine a life without him, because you could not have Ballister without Ambrosius. The rest was history. 

_____

"I don't really want the whole kingdom to show up to our wedding if we are being honest," Ballister said. He eyed the two different invitation designs that they had agreed on. One was gold and a simpler font, the other silver and a much more calligraphic font. So far, Ballister liked the golden one, but of course, Ambrosius disagreed. Perhaps they could compromise and make a golden invitation with calligraphy, and combine the two styles. Ballister would bring that up later. 

"It won't be for the whole kingdom. It would be encoded of course, so only one person would understand," Ambrosius held up a paper where he had written a short and simple note for some mysterious person. Ballister did not know who it was and Ambrosius would not tell him, lest it ruin the surprise. For some reason, Ambrosius was dead set on having the letter broadcast or printed somewhere it cold not be missed, but that could easily backfire. Ballister rolled his eyes.

"I trust you, you know," Ballister sighed, setting down the papers in his hands. "I just don't really trust the kingdom to leave some encoded letter alone. People will most likely figure it out." Ballister walked over to Ambrosius, reaching for the paper. "If you would just tell me who this is for, I could probably help you." Ambrosius snatched the letter away, pouting.

"It was supposed to be a surprise." Ambrosius sighed and closed his eyes. "Very well. The letter was for Nimona."Ballister stepped back, and Ambrosius handed him what he wrote.

_Nimona,_

_We know that you haven't seen us in almost a year, as far as we know anyway, but we miss you and would be honored to have you come visit, if only for our wedding, this spring, April 10th, at the Surilie Brother's Vineyard in the countryside. We would love to see you there, even if you are disguised. It is going to be a small secretive ceremony after all, so we'll notice a complete stranger in the crowd._

_Sincerely,  
Boss and Goldilocks._

"I know, it was a stupid idea," Ambrosius said. "She probably is on the other side of the world by now, and wouldn't even have seen it. I'm sorry, Ballister." He set the note down on the table, but Ballister just closed the gap between them, pulling Ambrosius closer to him by his hips.

"No need to apologize," he said, smiling. "That was really sweet for you to think of her and try to surprise me. Thank you." He kissed Ambrosius on the cheek, and the blond draped his arms around Ballister's shoulders, swaying to unheard music. Ballister ran a hand through Ambrosius's long hair on the side of his head, and kissed him on the lips, then lead a trail of kissed leading to his ear, and to his neck. Ambrosius gasped, and the letter was left forgotten on the table.

_____

The ceremony was beautiful really. It was quite simple and small too. Blitzmeyer was there of course, a few people that Ballister and Ambrosius met while establishing the temporary government were there, and even a few people from the Institute that Ambrosius trusted in his time there. The ceremony took place in the fields next to the grapevines and cherry trees, and the reception inside the winery on the edge of the property. Cherry wine was the main drink served, but others could order off a menu if they desired. It was the usual procession. They walked up the isle, said their vows and kissed. Nothing spectacular. 

But the day grew to night, and guests left, and Ambrosius and Ballister, named Goldenheart now, were left to wander the vineyards, invited to stay as long as they felt by the brothers who owned the estate. The brothers went to bed, but still, two husbands walked the fields, watching the stars in each others eyes. 

It was Ambrosius who finally broke the silence. "I'm sorry that Nimona did not show up." Ballister looked down at their intertwined hands, now sporting two beautiful rings. He sighed.

"How could she have known," Ballister asked. "We threw the letter out." Ambrosius nodded.

"Yeah, I know, but its still a shame." Ballister sighed.

"I hope she knows that we don't hate her, where ever she is." The two stood silent, looking up through the cherry trees at the sky Ambrosius leaning his weight on the one leg uninjured from the battle almost a year ago. Clouds began to cover the moon, darkening the fields slightly. Ambrosius led them to the base on one tree and sat, motioning for Ballister to do the same. The remained there, comfortable, until Ballister heard a rustling in the branches above him. He looked up, and there he saw a bright red cat, staring down at him from among the cherry blossoms and pink petals of the tree. By this time, Ambrosius had fallen asleep, head on Ballister's lap and facing the stars. 

Ballister took a deep breath, and stared at the cat. "Nimona," he began, speaking softly. "I don't know if that is really you, or if I have just gone mad." The cat climbed to a lower branch, inching closer to the man that was speaking to it and shaking a few petals onto the men below. "But I wish you know that Ambrosius and I, we don't hate you. In fact, we miss you dearly. I know, its hard to believe." Ballister ran a hand through his hair letting the pink flowers that fell onto his head fall to the floor, then and absentmindedly combed the same hand through Ambrosius's. "I guess it doesn't really matter. You're gone and I am just talking to a cat." By then the cat had wormed its way down the tree and sat by Ambrosius's feet. Ballister sighed, looking down at his husband's sleeping face. He sometimes couldn't believe it, that they had survived and were now actually married, together for life without any Institute in the way. Nothing would separate them again, Ballister promised him that. 

The cat stood up on all four legs now, and circled around the tree, disappearing. Ballister sighed once again, but soon felt two arms wrapped around his middle. He looked down to see a familiar head of pink hair, face buried in his side. Ballister did not say anything, just wrapped one hand around her shoulders as she shook from either cold or sobs, Ballister did not know. Ambrosius stirred at the sudden movement, opening his one good eye and seeing the girl clinging to his husband. He raised one hand, and placed it on Nimona's. She still clung to Ballister as tight as she could. Ambrosius knew that she had been there after all. How she knew where they would be, he did not know. Perhaps she had visited their home, and seen the letter in the recycling, or heard it through the walls as Ballister read it out loud. Either way, she was here now and there to stay, and the three of them remained there until the sun rose and the brothers found them slumbering in each other's arms.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoyed. This is not my first fanfic, but it is my longest one-shot, and the first fic I've actually completed in years. I got the inspiration from my sleep deprived self on a vacation to Michigan. I daydreamed in my head, and when I got home, I wrote and actually completed it in between watching Minecraft lets-plays, researching the 2021 Nimona movie that is supposed to come out, and singing Hozier songs. 
> 
> Which reminds me, did you find all the references I put in here. I put five in, unless I accidentally put in more or less than I originally thought.
> 
> Feel free to comment your thoughts! Thank you for reading. :)


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